Free Glubbslyme by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

understand,’ said Rebecca in despair.
    She had tried so hard to get Glubbslyme to remove the hex but he insisted it was impossible.
    ‘What is done cannot be undone,’ he had snapped. ‘What ails you, child? I thought you detested this girl? Have a little resolution if you please.’
    Glubbslyme had retired to the greenhouse, sulking. Rebecca had spent a very miserable afternoon and evening, worrying.
    ‘What’s up, pet? Can’t you tell me?’ Dad said now, tucking her up. ‘You’ve been very quiet and odd today. It’s not because I got cross with you about that old shopping bag, is it?’
    Rebecca had washed it out as best she could but it was still in a pretty disgusting condition when Dad came across it in the cupboard. (She had had to throw her pillow straight in the dustbin). Dad had got very angry when Rebecca failed to give him an adequate explanation for the state of the shopping bag.
    ‘No Dad,’ Rebecca mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t notice she no longer had a pillow.
    ‘Then what is it? What was all that about a hex? Have you been making up some imaginary game and it’s started to get too real and scary?’ said Dad.
    ‘Sort of,’ said Rebecca unhappily.
    ‘I suppose it’s because you’re left on your own such a lot,’ said Dad, sighing. ‘I don’t know what to do about these silly old holidays. I can’t get any more time off work. I wonder about advertising for some nice lady to look after you?’
    ‘A babysitter?’ said Rebecca indignantly. ‘I’m not a baby! I’m all right, Dad. I like being by myself.’
    ‘Why don’t you play with Sarah more?’
    ‘She doesn’t want to play with me,’ Rebecca mumbled.
    ‘Of course she does! You two are best friends, aren’t you?’
    ‘She’s got another friend now. Mandy,’ said Rebecca, and she started crying again.
    ‘Ah!’ said Dad, thinking he’d got to the bottom of things at last. ‘You were mumbling Mandy when you were still dreaming. I see. I don’t suppose you hit it off with this Mandy, right?’
    Rebecca nodded and cried harder.
    ‘You girls! Why can’t you all be friends together? How about inviting Sarah and Mandy over to play tomorrow? Do something that’s really fun together. Why don’t you buy a cake mix and make fairy cakes, you like doing that?’
    ‘Mandy won’t want to come, Dad.’
    ‘Of course she will. You try asking her.’
    ‘I’m not sure she’ll be able to come.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because – because . . . I’m scared she might be ill,’ wailed Rebecca. ‘She might be covered in warts or worse – and it’s all my fault.’
    Dad didn’t seem to think this likely. He told Rebecca she was still half asleep. He yawned, because he felt half asleep himself, gave her a kiss goodnight and went back to his own bed.
    Rebecca was not half asleep. She was wide awake. She lay tossing and turning, unable to rest her head, unable to rest at all. When it started to get light at long last, she thought she heard a croak from the bottom of the garden. Rebecca couldn’t wait any longer. She crept downstairs and out into the garden. The dew was so thick she had to paddle through the grass. Her bedroom slippers were never going to be the same again.
    She found Glubbslyme just curling up at the bottom of his pot for a dawn snooze, after a night’s sluggorging. (The last of the Baker plague). He was not very pleased to be disturbed.
    ‘I’m sorry, Glubbslyme, but I’m desperate,’ said Rebecca, and she started to cry.
    ‘Desperate?’ said Glubbslyme drily. ‘Is the house aflame? Have cut-throats seized your father? Are soldiers running amok through the streets? If so, I will assist. If not, de sist.’
    ‘I can’t,’ said Rebecca, and she cried harder.
    Glubbslyme sighed irritably, but when she went on crying he emerged from his pot.
    ‘Desist,’ he said, but much more gently.
    ‘I’m so worried about Mandy,’ Rebecca howled. ‘I keep having nightmares about her.’
    ‘What is done cannot be